


A Lion in a Dragon Pit

by snap_crackles (orphan_account)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Not K-Pop Idols, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Character Death, Eventual Romance, Friendship, M/M, character deaths are vaguely mentioned right now, will be further depicted in later chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 14:07:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14833712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/snap_crackles
Summary: “Cheolie, what are those islands?” Hansol curiously asked, pointing at a small collection of land masses isolated by the Sinner’s Sea.Prince Seungcheol chuckled darkly as he wrapped his arms protectively around his little brother.“Those Hansolie, are the Dragon Lands,” Seungcheol answered, resting his chin on top of his little brother’s head. “And you must promise me that you'll never venture there. Such a place is dangerous for a little prince like you.”At the age of ten, Hansol Choi – the illegitimate son of the King – is forced to leave the Capitol.At the age of sixteen, he returns; with an army at his back calling him ‘King.’





	A Lion in a Dragon Pit

**Author's Note:**

> Here I am, back on my bullshit. I already started mapping out ideas for this fic, but right now everything’s a bit vague--some ideas clearer than others, so I’m writing as the concepts continue to develop.  
> I know, I know-- a proper writer should have a solid blueprint and draft before actually following through, but I’ve got poor impulse control and I like validation. I’m actually really, really excited about this project though. I’m a bit insecure that this will flop, but we’ll see. I hope you guys like my little prologue! Do tell me what you think!

 

_They say fire is destructive._  
_That it burns and kills all that stand in its way._  
_And it’s true. It would be naïve to think otherwise._  
_But where there is ash, there is always rebirth._  
_And you, my King - I see nothing but flowers blooming for you on this black, ashy land we tread on._

_-MH_

 

 

**PROLOGUE:  
where we start at the end**

**(2 years after Hansol’s return from the Dragon Lands, 5 months after the sacking of Cypress Hill)**

 

* * *

 

There are days when (King) Hansol Choi doesn’t feel like a king.

There are days when he wakes up in his father’s old room, and the sight of the stone walls make him feel more empty than comforted.

There are days when he wakes up to the smell of hot breakfast served on a porcelain tray, so reminiscent of the meals he had as a child — but that was _then_ and this is _now_ , and some days (most days) the taste of the food is too rich, and the meal sits too heavily in his stomach.

On such days, he barely picks at his breakfast — craving for the familiar taste of smoked fish instead. 

The crown that sits on his head is heavy — a burden that is disguised in a pretty fashion; made up of gold and decorated with the most precious jewels…

Hansol _hates_ it, and there are days when he wonders (painfully) if his brother had hated it too.

But what occurs _every_ _day_ is feeling like a stranger in his own home. In the eight years of Hansol’s absence, the castle had aged as well — acquiring memories of its own; _harrowing_ memories that shadow the grey walls, and sometimes Hansol thinks he can hear the unseen ghosts cry…

There are days when Hansol Choi doesn’t feel like a king. Doesn’t want to be king. Wishes that the opportunity to be a king never fell in his lap in the first place.

_He was never meant to be a king._

But the country has bled too much, and Hansol is not selfish enough to let himself wither away.

No, he is a _Choi;_ like his _brother_ and his _father_ , and his forefathers before him…

So he bears the heavy crown, and he sits on the throne, and he lets the people call him **_King_.**

 

“Your Majesty,” a voice calls out as soon as the door to the king’s study creaks open.

Hansol looks up from the note held loosely between his fingers, allowing the smallest hint of a smile to tug at his lips.

“Chan,” Hansol greets his long-time friend. The smile only grows wider as the knight shifts uncomfortably at the casual form of address. “What brings you into my study? Last I saw, you were in the courtyard sparring.”

“Lord Seungkwan sought me out after I lost a round with Sir Mingyu. The lord says he’d like to seek an audience with you and is standing outside of the room as we speak. Shall I send him in?”

Hansol looks out the window, the smile on his face softening as he nods.

“Please do. I don’t know him well, but his personality is charming enough.”

“As you wish, _Your Majesty.”_

“Oh come on now, stop that!” Hansol laughs, prying his attention away from the window. However, when his gaze falls on the young knight’s impassive face, he allows his smile to slowly fade. “We’ve known each other since we were little boys,” Hansol begins, almost imploringly. “Back when you were just a lord’s son and I was just an illegitimate child… before all the _titles_ and _politics_. When the Dragons called us _‘Lost Cub’_ and _‘Little Fox.’_ Call me by my name, Chan. Are we not friends?”

_Please, Chan. I couldn’t bear it if I felt as if I had lost you too…_

Hansol watches with hope as Chan slightly bows his head down. The king can almost hear the cogs of the knight’s brain working; Chan more than likely trying to piece together a retort. It’s what they do — push and pull, playfully tease… Hansol silently hopes that Chan will push back with mischievous words of his own.

“It’s improper, Your Majesty,” Chan tiredly sighs as he looks up, settling for a response that’s more explanatory than snarky. “I will forever be your friend; your sworn sword and shield, but now I have my own roles to play and you have yours.”

The unsaid words of, ‘ _Things are different. We are different. And the court and your kingdom are watching our every move…’_ go unsaid, and it makes Hansol’s stomach drop.

There’s something very final in Chan’s tone that makes Hansol’s heart sink, and it must show on Hansol’s face, going by the apologetic look Chan offers to the king.

“Of course,” Hansol murmurs, more for himself than anyone else. “You’re right, Sir. Very well… Dismissed.”

Strangely, the words hurt to say, even though Hansol insists to himself that there are no ill-emotions contained within them. The words just come out too cut and dry, forcing Hansol to blink down at the tiny note he still clutches in his hands.

He hears nothing but pure silence for another brief second, and then he hears the heavy footsteps of the knight leaving, followed by the door opening and Chan gruffly saying, “His Majesty will see you now.”

The door to the study shuts, and the sound of lighter footsteps fill the room.

“Well, Sir Chan seems to be in a _chipper_ mood,” Lord Seungkwan sarcastically states, and Hansol lets out a semi-amused huff as he looks up _._

“Good afternoon My Lord,” Hansol greets quietly, to which Seungkwan responds with a bow. “What brings you here today?”

“To be honest, nothing in particular. I’m afraid Lord Jeonghan has no use for me at this moment, leaving me to wander the castle on my own — which, by the way, is quite nice but I’m rather bored,” Seungkwan states as he walks up to Hansol’s desk. Hansol raises an eyebrow, but makes no attempt to disrupt the talking man. “Forgive me if it’s rude to ask; I’m just a lowly lord from the Northern Plains with no true grasp of Capitol Life, but _should_ there be a reason for a lord wanting to befriend his king? I only wanted to chat.”

“You ask a bold question, My Lord,” Hansol intones, but not unkindly. He offers Seungkwan a little grin before continuing, “Friendship? It seems as if everyone in Court has been clamoring for my hand in _friendship_ ever since my crowning… Forgive me; I don’t mean to be hostile towards you, but you must understand that friendship here in the Capitol usually doesn’t come freely. It’s treated like a formal business and I’m a bit wary of those asking for _friendship_ , even though it’s something I would genuinely like,” Hansol’s grin turns wry.

“I suppose I understand,” Seungkwan says contemplatively, and Hansol takes in the gentle eyes of the man. “You make a good point. Lords are always finding ways to become part of the greater political scheme; finding cracks in the system that are just big enough for them to squeeze through,” he chuckled. “But what do _I_ know of politics? I’m just an 18 year-old vassal for the greater House of Yoon. My duties are to tend to my tangerine garden and wait for my father to find me a betrothed. _What a life.”_

At this, Hansol laughs; a laughter that erupts from the depths of his belly. It’s the kind of amusement Hansol suddenly realizes he had missed for so long. There’s nothing exactly funny about the comment per se, but the cynicism dripping from Seungkwan’s latter words feels so foreign and familiar at the same time.

Finally coming to his senses, Hansol collects himself, but the grin on his face never disappears. Glancing over at the young lord, the king finds Seungkwan looking pleased.

“And so the King _does_ know how to laugh! Perhaps I shall join your court and become the King’s Fool?” Seungkwan jokingly suggests.

“Perhaps,” Hansol murmurs softly, eying the other with endearment, causing Seungkwan’s eyes to widen. “I like your company so far My Lord, and I must admit; I haven’t had a good laugh in ages,” Hansol’s voice trails off as he looks meaningfully out the window.

“And why is that, Your Majesty?” Seungkwan asks curiously, slowly walking around the desk to stand beside the king. “When I was just a young child I would sometimes hear stories about the Great Tame Lion and his cubs… I came here to Cypress only once before the first sacking broke out, and I was old enough to see Prince Seungcheol as the charming prince everyone claimed he was. At that time, you were already gone… No offence Your Majesty, but seeing you get crowned months ago… there was a melancholic gloom about you. You didn’t look like the happy prince everyone remembered you being.”

“People can change a lot in eight years,” Hansol replies quietly. “And may I remind you, my crowning ceremony wasn’t a happy one to begin with. It was…” he trails off, thickly swallowing. “I became king through bloody circumstances. Had I took the crown and sat on the throne with a smile on my face, the people would have thought me mad.”

“Understandable, Your Majesty. Forgive me for speaking too fast and not thinking quickly enough.”

“No, it’s alright,” Hansol waves dismissively. “It happens; even to the best of us.”

A moment of silence lapses between the two as Hansol continues to look out the window.

It’s spring — the trees are blossoming with tiny flowers of pink and scarlet. The grass is growing; thick, lush and green for the first time in months. The sun beams down, basking everything in yellow and Hansol solemnly thinks that for the first time in a long time, maybe there is hope, life _and_ happiness in store for the future.

Maybe.

“May I say something, Your Majesty?” Seungkwan asks, breaking the silence with a muted voice, and Hansol side-eyes the lord with some amusement.

“You are already speaking, are you not?”

_“Har-har,”_ Seungkwan says sarcastically, rolling his eyes — the juvenile action making Hansol chuckle. “In all seriousness, Your Majesty; may I share some words my mother would often say to me?”

“Of course, My Lord,” Hansol turns to face Seungkwan completely, giving the lord his utmost attention.

 “As you know, my family lives in the Northern Plains, and during the rainy seasons the plains would always flood. As a child, the rolling thunder and bright lightning would always scare me, and I always feared getting washed away by the deep water. But my mother would always remind me that the sun shines the brightest after the storm. That darkness doesn’t last forever and neither does its gloom.”

“Lady Boo sounds like an optimistic woman,” Hansol murmurs gently, and he can’t help but feel a slight sting — he never knew his own mother.

Was she kind and warm-hearted? Did she too have an optimistic heart?

“Yes, she is,” Seungkwan sighs with a hint of endearment before turning to fully face Hansol. “But you do understand what I’m saying, right Your Majesty? Spring has come, and there is hope blooming everywhere. The darkness has passed, and one day _someday_ the pain will ease too,” Seungkwan’s face softens. “I don’t think I have said this and I’m sure you’ve heard it all before, but I am truly sorry for what happened to your father and brother. The Dragon Knight too.”

“My heart aches for them every day,” Hansol confesses. “I know the stories would suggest otherwise, but my heart also breaks for my Queen Mother. She may have hated me, but I have never wished her ill-fortune. It’s been four years since my family’s death and yet it feels like their presence is still here… haunting me. And as for the Dragon Knight,” Hansol breaks off and looks at the note in his hands, “As for the Dragon Knight, I feel like ruling this kingdom would be much easier if I had him by my side.”

“You loved him.”

It’s not a question, but a statement, and Hansol looks up to find the lord watching him with curiosity. The smile Hansol gives is weak and lopsided.

“I did, yes.”

“So the rumors _are_ true… You know, I’ve heard stories about him,” Seungkwan offers, not unkindly. “They say he’s a fierce warrior — unyielding and terrifying in the battlefield. Back home in the Plains, if you were to visit a tavern, you could hear them sings songs about a young man with real dragon blood in his veins.”

“He _was_ quite a fierce fighter,” Hansol confirms, the grin on his lips growing fond. “But that only covers the tip of the iceberg. There was so much more to Minghao that I’m sure the songs don’t capitalize enough on.”

“Would you tell me about him?” Seungkwan asks. Hansol studies the other man for a moment — looks for any signs of judgement or hunger for gossip, but finds none. Instead, the king finds Seungkwan patiently blinking back, eyes that are warm and soft. There’s a saying that eyes can be windows into the soul, and all Hansol sees is a soul that’s genuine and companionable.

“He was passionate,” Hansol finds himself quietly saying, and Seungkwan’s lips twitch slightly.

“As a lover?” the question is innocent and Hansol can’t help but duck his head shyly.

“No,” Hansol says after a moment and peering upward. “No, not exactly as a lover. Or maybe he is… _was_. I’ll never know. I think I fell for him too late, but I _do_ know that he was very emotional. He did everything from the bottom of his heart. He,” Hansol breaks off, closing his eyes.

_Thinking about you hurts, Minghao. But perhaps this is called grieving…_

When Hansol re-opens his eyes, he gives a pained smile to the lord frowning at him with concern.

“Perhaps this is a story for another time?” Seungkwan asks gently, and Hansol shakes his head.

“No. I want to talk about it, My Lord. Perhaps it’s time to talk about it… I _need_ to talk about it… But I beg of you, can we talk about this as equals? Can we shed our identities as king and lord for this one moment? I promise, I will tell you everything. **_I will tell you my story, from the very beginning.”_**

 


End file.
